Magic without Borders
by Sora Keyes
Summary: Apollo Styx, former Dark Arts Master at Sarime School for Witches and Warlocks, ia growing strong in his insanity and abilities. In the thick night The Counicl of Witches carry his daughter Iramia off to England to keep her away, but alas, all is not well
1. Daughter of Destiny

Prologue

The spirited wind whipped through the willow trees branches on old Harris lane. The crows that forever lingered on these old statues were still and silent. The leaves that heralded Autumn's arrival jostled in the soil. The shabby mailboxes of this part of Salem swayed like drunken sailors, with old Mrs. Kilternoin's close to toppling. Silence. It was as the townspeople would aptly call it, the witching hour.

An idle crow, astute in the brambles, heard a rustle in the calmness, and felt the glow above it as a singular street-lamp ignited. Such things were un-natural for this area, the bird knew this well, for each lamp had blown out many a year ago, and never had been fixed. This area had been left alone by the people of Salem, it wasn't safe it wasn't...it wasn't a place that could be explained. Their was something in the air, something even the most unfeeling cynic could not ignore. Perhaps it was what turned so many away; it was simply a part of town that could not be explained. The old bird was drawn, like its brethren to lay keep in this place, and of course there were always messages and duties that took them here, night after night. 

The bird then heard the quiet patter of footsteps as someone discreetly moved from around the corner and onto the street. The figure was tall, with a long knee-length coat that was buttoned up all the way to the neckline, and from the two pronged sounds of their movements the crow could tell the figure was a woman, wearing stilleto heels. It soon became apparent that a much smaller figure was tailing her, as obedient as a dog, but not one. The crow knew it must be a child. One of the more peculiar things about crows was their ability to sense magical presence. Most people who scoff at the truth of it, but crows _thrived_ off the magic of mortals. Without it, they were just unintelligent beasts.

As the figure drew nearer to the crow, he could see its features dancing in its sliding vision. The woman had to be in her early thirties, though her face was beautiful. It was a kind of natural beauty, something that could only be tainted by the application of cosmetics. She wore glasses, rimmed in sparkling diamonds that scintillated in the moonlight. Her hair was tied back conservatively, and her brow was furled in a rather annoyed manner. Her petite companion was indeed a young child, that couldn't be older than four or five. The child was female as well, though whether the two were related was indiscernible. All the same, the child held a similar expression upon her pale face.

"When are we going to be there Aunty Angelica(That solved that matter, thought the crow)? I'm cold, and I don't like this place very much. Its got too many birds."

Aunty Angelica looked down at the child with a mixture of disgust and…was it pity? She did not answer, but pulled her niece along at a faster pace.

"Who are we going to see aunty? Is it papa? I miss papa. You never let me see him anymore. Was that him on the pelephone this morning? Why won't you let me see him? I wanna see papa!!!" she shouted the last phrase most emphatically this time, and Angelica stopped in her tracks.

"How dare you. You ungrateful little brat. Do you know what I have done for you? What I am _risking_ in taking you away tonight? How _dare_ you screech at me like that!" She was fuming now, her face contorted in an unnecessary rage for someone talking to a four-year-old. Perhaps the child's sudden cowering altered to this fact, because she let go of the child's arm and took a few deep breaths.

"Iramia. My dear, I was not trying to frighten you. Please, please understand. _I _am very frightened by this all. Your papa, your papa is not well. In fact," she pauses at this point and looks around quickly, "he is very very sick. I can not take care of you here in Salem anymore. The Council of Witches; that big group your mama and I were part of, remember? They are very angry with your papa, and I know that for your own safety, for your own growing up, you need to go away. Very far away from all of this. It will blow over soon, I'm sure of it."

Iramia looked at Angelica for a few more minutes, before nodding, and walking forward. Perhaps she was very intelligent, or perhaps she just wasn't up to fighting anymore, but the girl looked complacent with this explanation of things. Angelica was pleased, and the two strode down the road in silence again.

Rush. Air flowing everywhere. Darkness thickens.

From the clouds above first burst specks, peculiar dots in a bleak scape. Angelica stares at them, with a look of nostalgia and jealousy. But as they soared down to the couple who they were became clear in an instant. Aloft seven brooms of the sleekest oak and dressed in a range of suits from high ranking professions were seven awe-inspiring women. All were Angelica's age, but they were elegant goddesses of beauty; flawless. They were tall, and had athletic and slim figures. Each dismounted their broom as if coming off a champion horse, and dusted themselves off. The closest to Iramia and Angelica laughed loudly at the skies and shook her head.

"Who would have thought we would have such beautiful weather for a kidnapping, eh Angie?" her voice was crisp but light hearted. Angelica and her shook hands and Angelica leaned in with a whisper and said,

"Apollo called last night. Junipera, he…he knows something is up. Whether he know about Cassandra's prophecy is beyond me, but….but take care when you go." Junipera didn't drop her grin

"I'm going not as the crow flies, but via Greenland with Nabuna. Unitera and Magisleniva will go up through France, and Hatyali, Aphrolidia, and Nevora will fly straight and true. It will be a diversion if there ever was one. She bent down, again most eloquently, and shook Iramia's little hand.

"Are you ready?"

Iramia stared at each witch in turn, sizing them up in her own little way, then turned back to the one in front of her, who was smiling. Angelica squeezed her hand. "It's ok Ira, these women will take good care of you." She looked at Junipera with a long insightful expression, sharing unspoken words of thanks that each other understood clearly. Iramia took one more look at her Aunt then said, "Uh, uhhuh."

The witches remounted, and Angelica lifted her niece, the niece she had cared for for three long years, onto her oldest friend's lap. She had let her guard down for a moment, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. She turned away, not letting her fellow witches see her in such weakness. She turned back to see that all except Junipera and the African princess Nabuna were in flight.

"Good bye dear friend. We shall see each other again Hekate willing." She rose her wand and pointed it at Angelica's head.

"_Obliviate!" _

Head raised to the sky, Nabuna and herself let out a cackle, and took off, destined for an isle far off in the darkness.

The crow mused over the events he just witnessed for a moment, then did something the birds of death rarely did. It smiled. Then it turned on its tail feathers and flew north, back to the mansion of its master, who would be very pleased to learn that the daughter of Apollo Styx was being snatched away under the Dark master's nose and into the night.

End of Prologue.


	2. Another Year Begins Part 1

**Another Year Begins Part 1**

"How many times do I have to tell you boy? Huh? You stupid? If the rag ain t brown it ain't finished! You think we're made of galleons boy? Merlin's beard I've spawned a dunce."

Bernard cringed as his father Tom swatted him with his copy of the Daily Prophet. He had gotten used to being ridiculed by his wizened and delusioned old father, it had been the ethos of his sad unfortunate life at the Leaky Cauldron. He had been suckled on the last drops of people's Firewhisky, so his father told him, and by darn it he had the barman genes in his blood. All the same though, it still hurt his ego to be pushing forty and being hit by a ninety year old man.

The Leaky Cauldron was hardly full at all today, but it wasn't a surprise considering it was the crux of summer and Londoners were appreciating what little good weather there was before the rain and cold returned. Wizards and witches just dithered for a few moments with friends in the entry room before rushing off into the back to scurry into Diagon Alley. It was only the old regulars, the drooping old hags and warlocks who had nothing better to do then drown their lost gold or magical prowess in bottle after bottle of cheap mead. What Bernard found most unsettling about it all was that these people had been here still drinking away their woes when he was a kid.

A loud snore rang out beside him. He turned to see Tom fast asleep on his little bar-stool leaning on the china cupboard.

A chime rang out from the front door. He didn't glance up from his dishes until he heard cheeky Mr. Dyson whistle loudly from his table. He looked up, and had to double take for a moment. The door had blown open in a gust of wind and standing in the oddly unnatural glow of the sun outside were two radiantly beautiful young witches, poised and elegantly framed in his doorway. Or his father's doorway, or……. who cared anymore. They were both tall, strikingly tall, though one was slightly more erect, the other more relaxed and comfortable with herself. The latter was dressed in stonewashed jeans and a pink top while the other wore something similar but in a more dignified style, with an air about her that said 'I'm just as desirable, but half as attainable.' Both had flowing long hair graced with a single highlight as seemed to be the fashion trend amongst girls these days. Both were a little unsure of themselves as to why they were standing in _this _particular doorway.

Bernard straightened his grease covered tie, and tried to look busy, but it took all his effort not to gaze into either's powerful blue eyes. The brown haired stern looking one, peered at her friend with raised eyebrows. Her friend responded with a perfectly executed hair flip, and smiled mischievously. After about thirty seconds Bernard's effort to retain self control peetered out, and he resumed gazing at them, as far away from reality and common decency as he could be. He almost was drooling, though he wouldn't have been the only one. A true barman. Tom would have been proud.

--

Iramia felt deeply uncomfortable with the looks half the males in the room were giving her right this minute. One of the men at the front even looked like he was drooling. She stood up a little straighter and buttoned up her shirt a little higher.

"Isn't this simply _marvellous_ Iramia? Who would have thought so many men would be enthralled with us? Your bound to find your perfect suitor in here m'dear." Iramia's best friend, and long time pain in the buttocks about everything male related, Victroire was gazing across the room as if the drooler was outlined in gold amongst the judicious layer of smoke swirling around everyone.

"Oooh that one looks handsome….oh if only he didn't have food in his beard. Oh and that fellow over there the one with the eye-patch? I'm sure he could sweep you off your feet and into the sea….oh and look at that guy near the fireplace he couldn't be older than twenty two I'm sure…"

Iramia let out a guffaw, "Junipera would stun any guy I brought home over eighteen. Heck she'd probably even stun Teddy if I brought him home."

Victroire gave Iramia a hard glare and stomped on her foot. "Teddy is mine. And I want to only hear thoughts that verify that coming from my best friend do you hear me Iramia Jones? Do you hear me? Positive reinforcement is the only way to go with these matters, mama always says that boys are attracted to girls with confidence in their ability to catch a man they want." She let her eyes scintillate in that hideously seductive manner she could muster up and bounced her hair again.

Iramia raised her eyebrows. Victroire really set her standards too high. There were plenty of boys who would give up all their gold in Gringotts to lather sanitizer over her hands. One look at her auburn hair and they were worse then these old saps.

Victroire nudged Iramia in the ribs. "Lets strut our stuff shall we?", and she led the way through the pub in a model-like manner, taking time to casually throw her hair over her shoulder and even had the dare to blow a kiss at a particularly star-struck healer. Iramia smiled cautiously, and didn't dare look the guy fluxing his muscles absent-mindedly in the eye. They took time to loop around the tables and even tho this was entirely inappropriate, Iramia felt she needed to show her flirt of a friend up; and so with greatly put on charm, she went over to a dribbling young man, licked her finger perhaps a little too heavily, and rolled it around the rim of his glass. The man's eyes bulged and he clutched the arm sides of his chair. An wizened old woman burst out laughing and fell back off her chair in stiches. Victroire stared opened mouthed at her friend, and lipped a sincere "To Chet". Once they reached the end of the pub, they waved at the bartender, who dropped the glass he had in his hand but didn't notice, and walked out of the room.

"Dear me, we are wicked aren't we?" said Victroire once they were outside. Both giggled vivaciously, taking time to point out some of the more disturbing and pitiful stares. Certain men were attracted to the two of them for reasons they simply couldn't understand. Victroire's Uncle Charlie said that it was Veela blood, but Iramia doubted it. She wasn't _that_ pretty or enchanting, not like Vic's mum Fleur. "So, should we spread the love some more in town my friend?" Vic asked with a gleam in her eyes. Iramia laughed and nodded, and the two opened the wall to Diagon Alley.

To be continued


End file.
